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Hi! In October 2010, I moved from San Francisco to Manhattan with my husband, daughter, and twin boys. Since then I've been busy teaching myself and my kids how to hail a cab, fly a kite in Central Park, and walk across the Brooklyn Bridge with style. And a few other things. I write about those other things here. Thanks for stopping by!
Email questions to sharonbeesley@gmail.com.

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5/14/13

Mother's Day Recap 2013

nov. 18, 2007. in one of the first anthropologie items i ever bought. you can't see it in this picture, but there were tulips growing on my boobs! ha i loved that cardigan.

The day before Mother's Day, Rob and I went on a date. We decided to go to Chelsea Market for dinner, but first I wanted to stop by Anthropologie. Just to peek in for a minute to get a new dress for Mother's Day. He found a giant flowery couch to sit on while I shopped. I didn't find anything on the first floor, so I walked down stairs to their basement level.

I took my time looking through the racks of clothes. I asked the salesgirl when they closed. I had an hour. I tried on a few dresses, looked through a few books, and checked to see if they had my size in sweaters I really didn't like. Nothing stood out to me in the entire store besides the blue dress I was holding. Everything else looked gaudy. The overly embellished sweaters. The patchwork chairs. The over sized necklaces. Ruffles in odd places. The kind of wallpaper I loved and bought 3 years ago.

Then a I started listening to a song they had playing in the background. The chorus had something about moms. Mine died in 2000 when I was 18 years old (i try not to bring this up in every single conversation ha). The singer sounded like Jack Johnson, so mellow and sad. I looked around the store and remembered that when I was 18 years old, these were exactly the clothes I thought were so fabulously feminine and so me. I still remember the day my dad tossed an Anthropologie catalog at me and said, "Here, this looks like you." To my teenage self, I took it as a massive compliment. I was yearning to have the same style as women in the catalog and I was thrilled that someone noticed. I had yet to purchase anything from the store, but I held onto the catalogs for inspiration. This went on even into my 20's when I could finally afford to splurge on a few things.

But now as I was standing next to a belted zebra print dress and that same damn guy was singing about his mom, I started to cry. I realized there's almost nothing the same about me when my mother was alive. I've somewhat abandoned or outgrown that person. While there's still parts about me that are the same--my love for writing, my appetite for food, my messy bedroom, there's something sad knowing she never got to see me evolve. Not just in my ridiculous fashion choices, but in becoming an adult. I'm sure she would have been different over these last 13 years, too. I would have loved to see her retire, become a social media guru, and turn into a grandma. It always comes down to that for me. She never missed out on anything. She was always present. It's so annoying she didn't get to live a few more decades.

Finally the song ended before anyone noticed me crying. I checked my phone to see what time it was, which led to me checking my Instagram. And with tears in my still in eyes, the first picture to show up was Rob with this caption: Been sitting on this couch for the last hour. Sharon said she was going to try something on and never came back. If you see my wife please tell her I am still waiting for her on that couch in Anthropologie.

And completely by accident, he got me out of my funk. I walked back upstairs, bought the blue dress, and we went out for dinner. I didn't mention my meltdown immediately, but I did put in a request for more self portraits from him in the future. There's nothing like an awful selfie to make it all better.

36 comments:

You gave me goosebumps reading this, my own mother is still alive but for the last two years I have been thousands of miles away from her and I often feel the same that she is not seeing me grow into adulthood and marriage. When I do get to see her we have such and adjustment period for her to realize who I am now.

I loved reading your post... the same happens to me sometimes, just a random thought or someone passing by and I remember my grandma... I miss her so much, and I´m so sorry she didn´t get to meet my son.

Hi! I'm such a fan of yours and I think, dare I say, a lurker! Ah, the worst! But I just love this and had to come out of the woodwork. You are a wonderful writer. Your mom would be SO proud. She would, she just would! Plus, on top of it all you & Rob are the cutest. Thanks for always sharing. And for breaking down in Anthro, so that I know when I do it, I'm not alone. xx Liz

Oh my gosh, thanks so much! You always crack me up so it is truly a compliment to hear that from you! Sometimes shitstorm is really the only word for the situation. And I too am in NYC so maybe someday we will meet and be goofy! Hope your day is the opposite of a shitstorm :).

My mom passed away when I was 24, I now have an almost 4 year old. I feel the same as you...most days, I am so happy, and even happy with thoughts of my mom and what she would think of this or that..but when it hits..its just really sad. Why isnt she here to see me be a great mom BECAUSE of the mom she was :( A beautiful Post Sharon

I'm not one to comment on the blogs I read [although i don't know why...I squeal with little girl delight when I receive comments on mine: byelyse.wordpress.com] but this post was beautiful. Beautifully written and a touching note to your mother's memory. Thank you for sharing.

I love this post because it hits so close to home. I lost my mom 17 years ago next Friday. I now have a 10 month old daughter and the loss seems so new now, especially on Mother's Day. All the things that I wish I could ask her, tell her, thank her for. But I know (hope) she is looking down on us and is proud of the woman and mom I have become. Is it wrong that I want to hug your husband, though, for that perfectly timed picture? :) Happy Mother's Day to you!

I was so fortunate to receive this post from my own daughter who is living in New Orleans while I am just outside of NYC. Luckily, we're both still on this earth, but living so far apart is so painful, and I just wait for the day when hopefully she moves closer to home. I lost my own mother when I was 23, and my kid sister was just 13. Not a day goes by that I don't think of my mother and all we both lost. She never got to be a grandmother and I never got the opportunity to dump my kids at her house and go out for the evening, or hear her laugh and say "I waited for the day when you would have a daughter just as difficult as you!" I wish I had known her better, and that we had hugged more...

Was this recently published in Real Simple Magazine? Or somewhere else? I have been browsing blogs tonight and have enjoyed reading yours for the first time. However, when I cam across this post it seemed oddly familiar to me. Please confirm that it has been circulated elsewhere?!

One of my favorite Anthro memories is when I rung you up at the register at the store in Soho that I was working at :) It caught me off guard when I looked up and I felt like a bumbling idiot.."duh, i love your blog....stutter, blush, stutter..." I have since moved to Boston and continue working for Anthropologie (which I just realized we are the same age and that my fashion taste has also changed drastically after living in NYC for 2 years and now Boston for 1) But I continue to love reading your blog and your no-bullshit stories. You don't sugarcoat and you are human with all the feelings that most people seem ashamed to mention. Its really inspiring and I hope that I can run into you again someday! You have a cool, beautiful and REAL family that I can only aspire to have someday ;) xo